


Inhio

by valderys



Category: Lost
Genre: Community: badcliche, Jossed, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-03
Updated: 2010-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valderys/pseuds/valderys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Want comes in many different forms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inhio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dawningsky](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=dawningsky).



> Written in 2005, during Lost's first season. Five little vignettes, and somewhat jossed. Written for the 'Bad Cliché's Made Good' ficathon. Prompt: 'He/She's only mean because he/she wants you.' This prompt was somewhat liberally interpreted :)

Rose had always known that Jesus wanted her for a sunbeam, ever since she was a little girl. She remembered that she used to sing the song as she skipped home from church on Sundays. And ever since then, she'd always tried to shine a little for Him each day, like the sunbeams in the song. But here, on the island, it seemed to her that it was more difficult than she remembered it being, all those years ago. Here, where the sun shone down so effortlessly every day, where it didn't just shine, but in fact pounded down, where it beat down like torture, until the sweat rolled from your brow, and your lips cracked and bled, here, she didn't really feel like singing, or anything else.

She knew Bernard was still alive. She knew that. But it was so hard to remember that the Lord had a plan for them. That this separation and worry was a product of His love. And then she knew she had penance to do, for daring to doubt in the face of their survival.

So she sat out in the sun and felt better, smiling as the heat lashed at her head, and her eyes ached from the glare.

Remember Jesus wants you for a sunbeam. He wants you to shine for Him each day.

Rose shone.

***

"Ow!"

And that's how it started.

Charlie looked on bemused as another stone flew from behind the bush, although this one hit Hurley's harder to miss body, rather than his head. There was a childish giggle from behind the bush, and then the sound of running feet.

Charlie looked at Hurley and raised an eyebrow. He shook his head.

"Just don't, dude. I have no idea."

Hurley was less surprised later when Walt approached him with the backgammon board, in apparent contrition. But he didn't tell Walt that he really hadn't needed that thinly veiled excuse to get him to play. Hurley liked backgammon. It reminded him of happier times when he was a kid, just like Walt. Even better than that, there weren't any numbers in backgammon. Just spots on the dice, and if he squinted very hard, not even those.

He might have lost the game, but it wasn't until a long while afterwards that Hurley realised he'd relaxed when he played.

Because with Walt, the numbers went away.

***

So. Torture as a form of courtship? It was interesting. It was different. And there was nothing else to do on this damn island but watch, and dream, and brood.

Scott watched the sweat crawl between the players. Watched the heat flow. He secreted himself away and listened as Sawyer screamed. He tasted the blood in Sawyer's mouth when Kate kissed him. Scott bit his own cheek and licked metal-flavoured lips and held himself tightly as he came.

He stared around at the others. And waited.

Steve was his friend, insofar as anyone was a friend in just a few days. But he didn't give Scott what he craved. He couldn't. He went on instead about his girlfriend.

Scott watched. He watched for sweat to crawl, he watched for heat to flow. He hid, and he dreamed, and he thought of blood and tears on perfect skin he'd never own.

When the time came, when Ethan came for him, he cried.

But it wasn't from fear.

***

Jin didn't want to touch. He didn't want to feel. But that had made no difference to the girl.

How could he have made her understand that he didn't want to touch? That it was not right. That it was not seemly. Her flesh was on obscene view, her legs, her arms. Nothing about her was seemly.

She had laughed widely, showing small white perfect teeth, and that he had understood. She was happy about something, and she'd grabbed his hand and held it to her stomach. His palm had shrunk from the thin touch of black fabric, from the straining sense of flesh nearing its end.

And then it had come to him. The kick. The life within. His mouth had protested, but his heart had sung.

He looked at Sun. They had never talked about children. He wondered, now, if they ever would.

He could never tell her, this shameless girl, this Claire, what that touch had meant to him. The thin thread of continuity that crackled through him like lightning in the rain. Instead, he hovered on the edges of the crowd, wanting her. Craving her.

Yearning for what she represented, here on this island of lost dreams.

His son.

***

John Locke blinked and stared into Jack's eyes. He willed the man to see sense. To see something beyond the immediate grasping after material solutions. He wanted Jack to understand so much, to see something of the wonder that John saw here every day.

But it seemed that today was not that day. Jack turned away and John was left with a feeling of helplessness at the man's obtuseness, his wilful blindness. Jack reminded him in an odd way of Randy. So sure in his smug self-righteous position. He found his hands closing into fists and consciously relaxed them.

It didn't matter though, in the end. Jack would learn. They would all learn. The Island was sometimes harsh in its demands, but it was always fair. A sacrifice would be required when the time came. But the rewards would be amazing.

And in the meantime no-one would leave. The Island wanted them all here and here they would all remain. That was John's job for now. To ensure that no-one left. He was glad to see that Sayid had recovered consciousness, although it was really immaterial.

But he hoped his next task would be less violent. He didn't like hurting those the Island loved.


End file.
